


teach me (to know you)

by treescape



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Luke Skywalker, Din fingers Luke for the first time, Inexperienced Din, M/M, That's it, That's the whole first chapter, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2 Spoilers, Top Din Djarin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28507113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treescape/pseuds/treescape
Summary: “I could show you how I like it, if you want,” Luke offers. His teeth tug lightly at Din’s bottom lip, and Din doesn’t know if he’s ever been this hard in his life. “Or not. I love this, too.” He thrusts up against Din’s hip again, the truth of his words evident in the sticky trail he leaves across Din’s skin.Or, Din fingers Luke for the first time.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 71
Kudos: 572
Collections: WIPs I’ll Wait Patiently For





	teach me (to know you)

Over the past few weeks, Din thinks he’s gotten pretty good at knowing just how to touch Luke. He takes pride in it—in every flutter of lashes as he sweeps a thumb against Luke’s cheek, in every soft catch of breath when he rubs a hand down Luke’s back, in every heated press of lips as he teases fingers over Luke’s cock. Still, his brain just about short-circuits one evening when Luke lazily grinds up against his hip and says, as casual as day, “You know, if you wanted to, I’d love it if you fucked me.”

Din’s hips stutter where they’re pressing Luke’s into the mattress, cock hard and aching against Luke’s thigh, and he swallows painfully around the sharp thrill of _want_ that tightens his throat. Luke is golden against the sheets, hair a tangled mess of bronze that spills over the pillows, and Din can’t imagine what he’s possibly done to earn even the _sight_ of Luke like this. The thought of Luke wanting Din to press into his body, like Din has some right to be here with him like this, like Din doesn’t destroy at least half of what he touches—

Din has to close his eyes for a moment, at that, because it isn’t like he hasn’t thought about it before—sometimes it feels like it’s _all_ he thinks about—and he presses his forehead to Luke’s.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally rasps, and hopes against hope that Luke will be able to read the spaces between each shaky syllable of what he says next. There’s no embarrassment really, because he knows Luke won’t _care_ , but Din has still never liked to admit to shortcoming. “I don’t know if I’ll do it right.”

 _I’ve never_. Never really had the time, never really had the chance, never really even had the desire, particularly, until now.

And he never, _ever_ wants to hurt Luke, who deserves only the best things that this galaxy can offer.

Luke draws the fingers of one hand slowly down Din’s spine, the other sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck, and Din wonders distantly where all the air in the room has gotten to. There seems to be hardly enough of it to fill his lungs. “There isn’t any right or wrong,” Luke says, pressing the words against Din’s mouth. “There’s only what you want to do and what you don’t, and both are fine.”

Din opens his eyes to find Luke watching him carefully, but he can’t seem to find the words to respond. He smoothes a thumb against the corner of Luke’s mouth, and tries to find the right way to ask.

“I could show you how I like it, if you want,” Luke offers. His teeth tug lightly at Din’s bottom lip, and Din doesn’t know if he’s ever been this hard in his life. “Or not. I love this, too.” He thrusts up against Din’s hip again, the truth of his words evident in the sticky trail he leaves across Din’s skin.

And Din loves this too. They’ve spent plenty of evenings lately just like this, tangled together in Luke’s bed in the Temple on Yavin, slowly starting to learn each other’s bodies. But right now, Din’s burning hot at just the _idea_ of watching Luke work his fingers into his own body.

He fists one hand in the pillow next to Luke’s head, forearm bracing his weight where he sprawls half over Luke’s body. “Yes,” is all he manages to get out, but it’s obviously enough, because Luke is grinning wide and happy. He lifts a hand from Din’s back and reaches out, and a small container of what Din supposes must be lube floats into his grip.

“Up,” Luke says, though his fingers are slow enough to leave Din’s hair, as if regretting the loss of contact already. Din groans as he rolls away, pressure easing against his cock, but he’s quickly distracted when Luke angles one leg—so Din can _see_ better, he realizes with a shuddering breath—slicks up one finger, and slowly presses it into his body. Din hardly knows where to look—at the way Luke’s eyes go dazed with concentration and pleasure, at the way his cock arches flushed and wet against the trembling lines of his stomach, at the way his finger slowly works into his hole.

It’s like sensory overload, but Din feels greedy. He wants it all—wants to see everything Luke can think of wanting to offer him.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” Luke groans as he presses his finger deeper inside. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, and Din would feel jealous—he wants to catch that lip between his _own_ teeth, wants to lick inside and taste every inch of Luke’s mouth—except that he could watch Luke like this forever. The thought of Luke lying awake at night, thinking about opening himself up for Din, or maybe about Din doing it for him—

“I have, too.” The words come out rough, like grit in desert air, but the sound makes Luke’s lips turn up at the corners. It’s enough to have Din reaching down almost unconsciously to trail fingers against Luke’s wrist, supple and strong, the bones shifting as Luke moves his finger in and out.

“Do you want to take over?” Luke asks, the words catching in his throat, and all Din can do is helplessly nod.

Luke pulls his finger out, the sound wet between them, and reaches for the lube again so he can pour slick over Din’s fingers, glide it over knuckles and fingertips with his own, and it’s enough to make Din wonder how he’s going to survive this.

Then Luke is guiding his hand down, until Din’s fingers rub over his wet entrance, and all there really is to do is press one finger inside the clinging heat of Luke’s body.

A slow, satisfied breath leaves Luke’s throat. “ _Oh_ , that’s good,” he murmurs, and Din would do anything to hear it again. Luke is so tight and hot around his finger, but he rocks his hips down as if wanting more, so Din eases back only to push inside a second time.

Luke rocks his hips down again, as if he simply can’t help himself, a soft, steady stream of _ohs_ falling from his lips. In a fit of inspiration, Din twists his wrist, letting his knuckle catch against Luke’s rim at a different angle. It must do something, because Luke gasps and reaches up to grip Din’s shoulder.

Din freezes, but Luke shakes his head desperately against the pillows. “It’s good, it’s _good_ ,” Luke moans, the words almost tripping over one another in their haste to get out, and Din has to stop for a moment, has to breathe, has to _not_ think about the way Luke is clenching down around his finger.

When he has a marginally better hold on himself, Din thrusts in again, taking care to keep his hand at the same angle and—yes, he can feel a small bump there, and Luke trembles when his finger brushes over it. On the next slide out, curious, Din presses down a little. He lingers just a moment to rub slowly back and forth, and Luke lets out a noise, low and desperate, that Din knows he’ll remember for the rest of his life.

Luke’s fingers curl, hard, into the muscle of Din’s shoulder, and perhaps it isn’t practical but Din hopes he’ll be able to feel it for hours—a faint burn that will remind him of Luke’s touch. “I’m going to come pretty quick if you keep doing that,” Luke pants, and then his heels dig in against the mattress, head thrashing against the pillows, as Din deliberately rubs against that spot again as he presses back in.

“Do you want to?” he asks, ducking his head down to mouth the words against Luke’s temple.

Luke laughs breathlessly, fingers flexing against the back of Din’s neck. “Do _you_ want me to? Or do you want me to wait?” Luke asks, and Din thinks about it, thinks about Luke smearing precome against his own stomach as Din works him open on two fingers, three, until he can fuck in slowly and desperately with his cock, but—

“I’m not going to last much longer anyway,” he confesses. 

“That’s okay,” Luke says, and his voice turns almost shy. “There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

Din is, eventually, is the thing—back to Mandalore and away from Luke’s shining presence—but that’s not what Luke means. Din will be back, again and again. He’s not going anywhere in any way that truly matters, either.

They have time. There really isn’t any rush.

“I’d like to see you come like this,” he admits.

“That sounds fantastic,” Luke says fervently. “Can you give me another finger?”

Din will give Luke whatever he wants—now, in this moment, or in any other. The beauty of it is that he trusts Luke to never press for something he simply can’t give. 

But _this_ —this, Din wants more than just about anything he’s ever wanted before. He pulls his finger free, regretting the loss of Luke’s tight heat immediately, and fumbles for the lube. Somehow he manages to spill what he hopes is enough across his fingers, and then he’s pressing back in with two, and if he’d thought _one_ was tight—

 _Kriff_ , he can hardly imagine what Luke will feel like on his cock, one day. Soon, he thinks; maybe later tonight, if Luke wants, and somehow, Din thinks he might. But right now, he can hardly even think about that, can only think about the way Luke looks spread out on two of his fingers, head tilted back to reveal the line of his throat. The way one hand curls desperately into the sheets, the other curling rhythmically against Din’s shoulder.

The way his cock flushes, so pretty and red.

Din thrusts in as deep as he can, twisting his wrist a little to rub the pads of his fingers over that spot again, and then the muscles of Luke’s arm are loosening and tightening again as he releases his grip on the sheets and presses his cock firmly against his own stomach, coming messily all over himself. Din's hips twitch forward at the sight, cock so hard he thinks he could almost come from this alone.

Luke is a gasping, shaking mess afterwards, but it still doesn't take him long to gather the air to say, “That was _awesome_.” Luke gives praise so easily, and Din—he wants to be able to do that, too, with Luke. Luke should know that he’s like the sun in the sky, or the stars in the night, or the air in Din’s lungs. Din knows he’ll never have enough words, never have the _right_ words, but Luke deserves whatever words Din can manage to give him. 

Din presses a kiss to Luke’s cheek, his nose, his chin. “You looked…amazing, on my fingers.”

Luke grins and pulls Din in for another kiss. Din goes easily; he can’t imagine doing anything else, not with Luke spread out here beneath him, limbs loose in the messy aftermath of pleasure. “Just think of how I’ll look on something else,” Luke murmurs against his lips, his fingers skimming across Din’s hip to wrap around his cock, and _oh_.

Din does.

**Author's Note:**

> *sweats* I guess it was only a matter of time before I wrote smut for these two. I'd apologize, except that I'm not really sorry--though somehow I do feel like this is the dirtiest smut I've ever written, which is objectively not true 😂 Now excuse me, I'm going to go write some fluff and also ~~think about Luke riding Din for the first time.~~
> 
> I'm [treescape](https://treescape.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if you ever want to come say hi!
> 
> Edited to add: Thank you so much for all of the wonderful comments. I'll be adding a second chapter to this eventually (though I don't know when it will be done) and so have accordingly changed this from 1/1 chapters to 1/2 chapters 😅


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